


Hide & Seek

by Ellisama



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Mutual Pining, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reconciliation, Sylvain and Ingrid's gourmet roadtrip featuring Dimitri and Dedue, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisama/pseuds/Ellisama
Summary: Dimitri had wondered privately if he would recognize Felix if he saw him in a crowd. It turns out that the answer was a resounding yes, because there he is, hair long and wild, covered in sweat and dirt from head to toe, repairing the roof of a church with his own two hands. His eyes are inexplicably drawn to the man that was once his best friend, on elegant fingers bruised from labor, the dirty strands of hair falling into his face as he works.Felix looks breathtaking, Dimitri realizes all at once, and he has no idea what to do with that revelation.--One year after the war, Felix and Dimitri finally stop playing hide and seek, with a little help from their friends.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 193
Collections: Project Sworn





	Hide & Seek

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Project Sworn! My partner [Mikan](https://twitter.com/yadntve) made all the art, and it's so lovely ❤ Please send her all your love.
> 
> I wrote this story while listening to [This Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQe6h7WIhVw)

From an early age Dimitri accompanied his father during his many journeys all over the country, but they always spent the first month of the year in Fraldarius. When asked why, his father would smile and lift him up on his shoulders, high enough to see the entire world. “Fraldarius is beautiful in spring,” the king would simply say. And he agreed. Winters in Faerghus are cold but every Great Tree Moon, like clockwork, the snow melts in Fraldarius and the world hidden underneath comes back to life, each shade of green each more vibrant than the other and interrupted only by the occasional pink blossom peeking in between. Perhaps most vividly he remembers a sky so clear and blue that Dimitri felt like he could see into tomorrow. 

But the best part was that every year without fail Rodrigue, Glenn and Felix would be waiting for them at the heart of all that beauty, welcoming them into Castle Fraldarius. Ingrid and Sylvain’s families would join before long too, as their parents had been childhood friends. While Miklan and Glenn could barely tolerate each other on a good day, the four of them had been inseparable from birth. Away from the public eye, the month spend in Great Tree Moon felt like a holiday. From dawn till dusk they would run through the woods, play hide and seek and carve their initials into trees. 

Like everything good in his life, it all came crashing down after the Tragedy of Duscur. Once his physical wounds had healed, the scars on the country became apparent, and with riots and discord around every corner, there was never time for a holiday, nor did he feel like he deserved it. Beauty wasn't gone from the world, but Dimitri felt detached from it, as if he were looking at a painting of a wonderful landscape instead of experiencing the spring rain dripping down his face. In the end, it was easier to just stay away than to be confronted with yet another loss.

But the Tragedy had been over a decade ago and instead of a wreath of flowers, a crown of silver and gold rests on his head. Dimitri changed as much as his Kingdom, and now that his days are slowly starting to once again fill with light, he can’t help but wonder: has Fraldarius changed too?

When he asks Ingrid after a late-night cabinet meeting, she looks at him owlishly. “Of course it has; it might have never fallen into the Empire’s hands, but that doesn’t mean the people didn’t suffer during the war.” 

“Of course, of course,” Dimitri immediately backtracks, “I never meant to imply that the people haven’t suffered greatly.” Any memory of spring rain evaporated from his mind, replaced by equal parts self-loathing and guilt.

Before he can be consumed by it, Ingrid places a gentle yet stern hand on his shoulder. She’s been doing that more often lately, whenever she sees him slip into his own mind. “If you’re curious, Your Majesty, why don’t you go and see for yourself?” 

“Fraldarius?” He asks, surprised. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind, not seriously at least.

“Spring in Fraldarius!” Sylvain exclaims from his seat, happily shoving the research funding proposal he had been pouring over away to make space for his legs. “Remember when we were kids, how we would play hide and seek? And Felix would always win because the little shit knew all the good spots?” 

Dimitri tries not to wince at the mention of his name, and the way Ingrid’s posture stiffens betrays that she is attempting and failing at the same endeavor. While Ingrid and Sylvain join him in the capital as often as their busy schedules allow it, he hasn’t seen Felix more than once since the war ended nearly a year ago. In a way Felix is still winning at hide and seek, only this time it isn’t a game and Glenn isn’t here to drag him out of hiding spots.

Dimitri swallows deeply and pushes the dread pooling in his stomach away with increasingly less difficulty. He’s come a long way. “Fodlan is still recovering. We can hardly afford to take a month off.” 

Running a kingdom after a five-year war is more than enough to keep his mind off the issue of his (former?) friend. He barely sleeps and if it weren’t for Dedue - ever stalwart - he probably would have dropped dead within the first month after his coronation. But he isn’t alone this time, and he has learned to ask for help when the voices become too loud. Mercedes and Annette remain in the capital, each busy with their own lives but never too busy to have lunch with him every now and then. Ashe returned to Gaspard, but his new knighthood has their paths often cross. Gilbert is like a shadow, and although it isn’t always a comforting one, he never falters. 

“Of course we won’t be taking the time off! Wait, I swear I have this somewhere...” Sylvain exclaims and then starts digging for something into a seemingly unending pile of documents. Just looking at all the proposals and reports makes Dimitri feel twice his age. “Aha! here it is! Ingry and I-”

“Don’t call me that,” Ingrid interjects Sylvain with a slap on his wrist with her pencil, although the blush painted high on her cheeks undoes the effectiveness of her threat. 

“Ow, you didn’t have to hit me! Anyway, the two of us have been planning a gourmet trip through the entire continent before the war even ended. We were so sick of Faerghus food and rations, that this plan really sustained us during our darkest hours,” he explains, unfolding the parchment to reveal a crudely drawn map.

“That sounds wonderful, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with my-- our current situation,” Dimitri says.

Ingrid smiles. “What Sylvain conveniently forgets to mention is that it would benefit the unity of Fodlan greatly, if you went on a diplomatic tour through to meet your people in their own homes. That way, they will come to see you less as a foreign warrior king and more as one of their own, do you understand? ...and there will be great food, too.”

Dedue nods. “That would benefit affairs indeed, although I doubt that an extended leave from the capital would be wise so shortly after the end of the war. There is yet too much to be reconstructed to leave for a year.”

Dimitri feels a familiar panic swirl up into his chest, seizing his lungs. 

Ingrid takes it away as soon as she spots it. “We agree, which is why we planned to be away for merely two moons at most. We’ll spend a week in each Duchy, visit a few key locations and partake in local delicacies. We could even visit the professor in Garegg Mach and have dinner at the Monastery like old times!”

With every word she and Sylvain speak, detailing their plan, Dimitri feels his initial resistance fade away. Fhirdiad has only recently become his home again, and more often than not he misses the many days filled with nothing but marching under the hot sun. The war was a dreadful time but now that peace, meetings and dark rooms fill his days, he can admit that they also had a silver lining. 

“It would indeed be lovely to see the Professor again….,” Dimitri wonders out loud. He is about to agree to the trip when he sees the first destination. “We should consider excluding Fraldarius, I think. The people know me well, so there is little need for us to visit.”

It’s a lie, of course, and a bad one at that. They all know the real reason. Dedue looks at him with something resembling disappointment, and Dimitri immediately feels compelled to add: “Besides, Felix is busy. We all know that the legacy Rodrigue left behind is not a small one.” 

While he and Felix have inherited their father’s titles and duties, Sylvain and Ingrid’s fathers are still alive, and thus they enjoy the luxury of being eased into their future roles while Dimitri, Dedue and Felix were tossed headfirst into it by loss. It is unfair, but as Dimitri reminds himself, that is the very nature of life. Only in the privacy of his own mind is he able to acknowledge that it is easier to think that Felix isn’t answering his summons because he is busy with his job than the other explanation, the one that keeps him up at night along with the voices. He has become adept at ignoring them, too.

For a moment, nobody dares to call him out on his obvious lie. Although Sylvain’s smile breaks into a pitying, insincere one. It is Dedue, who knows him like the back of his hand, that breaks the silence. “I have never been to the Duchy myself, but I have heard stories about the beauty of Fraldarius flowers in spring. I for one would not mind to see them for myself, one day.” His voice is calm and monotone, but Dimitri doesn’t have to look at him to see the worry in his gaze.

Sylvain slams his hand on the table excitedly. “See! We can’t deprive Dedue of the sight of the flower fields! That’s just criminal! Right?” His voice sounds jovial but his carefree demeanor belies the worry in his eyes. 

They aren’t the children they used to be, but he finds he can still recognize the urgency in his old friend’s eyes, willing him to agree. 

In the end, he does and prays Felix will forgive him.

* * *

Lone Moon comes and goes, and when it does, his friends ensure that he has no excuses to break his word. Gustave and Annette hold down the fort in Fhirdiad while they’re out ‘connecting with the people’, and their old Professor promised him that she would step in swiftly if anything went wrong. He trusts her - how could he not, after all she had done for them? - but the morning they embark he still feels anguish crawling up his spine like an old friend.

He had written to Felix that they were coming, several times in fact, but the letters he received in return remained few and far in between, and rarely gave any indication that Felix has read his. As such, he isn’t surprised that when they arrive at Castle Fraldarius, the Duke isn’t in residence.

Sylvain enters as if he owns the place, and not for the first time Dimitri wishes he had his natural confidence of easy-going nature. The white castle hasn’t changed much, although Dimitri does notice that the painting of Glenn that used to hang in the central hall, has been replaced by a more contemporary religious painting depicting Saint Cichol. The staff is more than pleased to serve the Savior King himself, but they’re less helpful in revealing where Felix is.

“His Grace is rarely home. There is much to rebuild, after all,” the ancient Fraldarius steward tells them and Dimitri is ready to call this whole thing off to return home and lock himself into his own chambers. They’re full of ghosts, but he has been getting a grip on them more with every passing night. Here in these memory-filled halls, there are very few defenses to their whispers. 

Dedue notices, because _of course_ he does, and reminds them all kindly that they came to meet the people rather than stay in an empty castle, and insists they keep up their schedule even if Felix isn’t here to join them. Dimitri gratefully pretends it is not because regular exercise and sleep keep his demons at bay, and goes through the motions as is expected of him. 

On their second day Ingrid insists they visit a familiar town, the very same they helped rid of bandits together with Rodrigue what feels like a lifetime ago, even if in reality it has only been seven years. The major welcomes them with open arms, ushering them through the small city’s newly repaired highlights with uneasy pride. 

By chance, they stop at an-almost repaired church to pay their respects to the fallen ones. It’s an absolutely beautiful old church, tastefully decorated with stained glass windows depicting a wonderful rendition of Saint Cethleann herself. But it is not the building that makes him stop in his tracks.

Dimitri had wondered privately if he would recognize Felix if he saw him in a crowd. It turns out that the answer was a resounding yes, because there he is, hair long and wild, covered in sweat and dirt from head to toe, repairing the roof of a church with his own two hands. His eyes are inexplicably drawn to the man that was once his best friend, on elegant fingers bruised from labor, the dirty strands of hair falling into his face as he works.

Felix looks breathtaking, Dimitri realizes all at once, and he has no idea what to do with that revelation. 

“Hey, Felix! There you are! We’ve been looking for you all over the place!” He yells loudly and starts running towards him.

Felix looks up, startled, and then schools his expression back into a withering look directed straight at Sylvain. He still lets their old friend pull him down and hug him, so Dimitri knows it’s a facade. While Felix half-heartedly threatens to maim Sylvain like nothing has changed at all, Dimitri watches them silently, his heart beating fiercely. He had missed Felix, but he hadn’t quite realized how empty that space he left behind felt now that he fills it again. Hadn’t anticipated how the mere sight of him would fill him with warmth and dread alike, and he detests it almost as much as he craves more of it. 

Dimitri forces himself to meet Felix’s eyes even if the gesture isn’t returned when the man appears right in front of him, not long after Ingrid and Dedue have caught up. 

“What are you all doing here?” Felix demands, wiping the sweat from his brow in a very distracting manner.

“Felix!” Ingrid scolds him with unshed tears in her eyes. “Can you at least show an inkling of manners? We wrote to you we were coming. Several times, as a matter of fact!” 

Felix averts his eyes from hers and Dimitri imagines that it is probably the exertion that paints his cheeks pink rather than embarrassment. “I’ve been busy,” he grits out.

“I can see that,” Dimitri interjects before Ingrid is able to spit out a retort. “It’s almost as if war has never touched this place. You’ve done well, Felix.” 

“It truly does look wonderful,” Dedue agrees earnestly, and even Felix has a hard time blowing off a compliment with such sincerity.

“Well…. we’ve been busy,” Felix replies after a long silence.

“Why don’t you show us around for a bit?” Sylvain asks before Felix has time to ruin the touching moment by saying something hurtful.

“Ugh, do I have to?” 

Ingrid raises a single brow. “Yes, you have to.” 

With a surprisingly minimal amount of complaining by Felix’s standards, he complies. The town, as it turns out, had been ravaged by bandits and war, though not terribly so. They had seen Enbarr burn, the scent of burning bodies forever etched into their brains. Politics may never be Felix’ forte, he at least had plenty of experience in clearing rubble, so instead of ruling his lands from his stately home, he traveled from town to town to help with the restoration effort, or so Dimitri gathers from his stories.

“Leading by example,” Ingrid sums it up, probably enjoying watching Felix squirm from receiving praise. 

Dimitri doesn’t need to ask around to see that she’s right, and while the Duchy is far from healed from a decade of decay, but it is healing. 

He takes the opportunity to listen to his voice, to watch his messy hair sway in the wind, to bask in the easy banter between his old friends. Frankly, Felix looks like the bone-deep exhaustion Dimitri feels in his bones every day, and it feels shameful to have to reacquaint himself with all the little things that make Felix, a person he used to know better than himself. When did they become strangers, albeit intimate ones? Was it after the tragedy, after the war had started, or after this year spend apart? More importantly, was it too late to make amends?

Before Dimitri can spiral further down in self-doubt, Felix turns to him. “You still didn’t tell me why you’re here.” 

“We’re on a diplomatic tour,” Ingrid offers.

“We’re here to show Dedue the flowers,” Sylvain replies at the same time, both truthfully and really, really not.

Rightfully, Felix doesn’t believe him. “ _Seriously_?” He turns to Dedue in the hope of a different answer, but the man merely nods.

“Spring in Fraldarius, does that ring any bells?” Ingrid says with a nagging tone in her voice that is all too familiar. “We decided to combine an old tradition with our Gourmet trip and a diplomatic tour which, _again_ , you would have known if you had read my letters.” 

“Shut up about the damn letters already!” 

“Not until you promise to read and answer them regularly!”

Dimitri takes a step forward before things can escalate. “My apologies, Felix. We shouldn’t have come without your permission, tradition or not. We can leave, if you wish,” he says sincerely, trying to meet Felix’s eyes without success. Were they always this warm, and always so shadowed by lack of sleep? 

It takes him a second to register that his words successfully stopped their argument, but he must have done something wrong because Dedue is sending him those pitying looks again that he does appreciate but also is starting to feel rather annoyed by. 

“I-” Felix opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again, repeating this process several times.

The silence eats at Dimitri’s nerves and not for the first time he wishes he could rewind time and try again. He’s halfway through another apology when Felix raises his hand.

“You’re already here, it would be stupid if you would just leave after traveling this far,” he says in a voice that sounds uncannily much like Glenn. 

Dimitri wants to retort that it is barely a four-day journey from Fhirdiad to Castle Fraldarius, but that would be acknowledging that Felix could have visited him at any time and didn’t, and he isn’t quite ready to face that. Instead, he just bows deeper than his station normally allows, “We thank you for your hospitality.” 

“Under one condition!” Felix exclaims, already sounding much more like his usual self. “You’ll spar with me, all of you. My sword is growing rusty!” 

Dimitri smiles and feels like perhaps it isn’t too late yet. “With pleasure.” 

They spend the remainder of the day helping with the repairs to the absolute mortification of the local nobility, which is something Dimitri suspects Felix takes great pleasure in. They work silently next to each other, seamlessly in a way that is more than just comfortable, if not for the persistent shaking of Felix’s hands.

When the sun sets and steals the heat along with its light, the town throws an impromptu bonfire party in his honor. It’s excessive and unnecessary, but a year of being King has taught him the importance of gestures and ceremony, so he graciously accepts it. The food tastes the same to him as always, but the company more than makes up for it. The fire sets him on edge, but instead of walking away from the burning and the memories, he faces the fire, willing these new memories to overwrite the old ones, the cheers to overlay the screams. He hears his father’s voice but drowns it out by mentally repeating a mantra: _I have earned this peace and I deserve good things_. He keeps at it until he almost believes it, at which points the ghosts are merely charred whispers in his periphery. If his friends notice that he is less talkative than usual, they don’t mention it. 

To his pleasant surprise, Felix goes out of his way to introduce a few Duscur refugees to Dedue, who turn out to have known his family before the Tragedy. His most stalwart companion is reduced to tears that Dimitri nearly shares while they recount memories, often slipping into a language he is ashamed to barely know. 

He resolves to do better, not just for Dedue, but to all of them. For once it’s almost as if he can hear the professor talking to him instead of the voices of the dead, urging him on with kind words. 

“Thank you,” he says to Felix when he finally finds him late at night, sitting alone in a patch of grass far removed from the festivities. He doesn’t object when Dimitri sits down next to him, instead of nursing what he can only assume is not his first goblet of wine. Together they watch their friends from a distance, the bonfire highlighting the deep shadows under Felix’s eyes. 

Felix looks at him unveiled skepticism. “For what?” 

_For caring, even though you pretend you don’t,_ Dimitri doesn’t say. 

“For your hard work,” he says instead and sits down next to him. For once Dimitri is relieved that the local populace seems reluctant to approach them, allowing them for a rare moment of privacy

“It’s my job,” Felix answers, a dark shadow casting over his eyes. 

“A job I forced you to take,” he reminds him. It had been a selfish thing to request after the war, but Rodrigue was dead and Felix’s uncle had been sickly for years. The man had a daughter, but she was so very young. 

After a surprisingly painless discussion, Felix had begrudgingly accepted the title, sheathed his sword, and returned to his childhood home. On the day of his coronation, Felix had surprised him by dutifully kneeling before his King like the other nobles, and sworn the same oath their fathers had vowed before them. That was the last time Dimitri had seen him before today.

“I’ve missed you,” he blurts out before he can stop himself, and he has no liquor in his blood to blame for it. “I mean, you have been missed by everyone. Including myself.” 

He doesn’t have to imagine the heat that rises to Felix’s cheeks. 

“I’ve been busy,” he grits out, before downing his drink in one go. He looks as awkward as Dimitri feels. “My father may have been a brilliant leader, but his math was pathetic! Going through his accounts has been a pain, not to mention his tax system! Honestly, it’s a wonder this place isn’t bankrupt! I did the world a service when I threw all of it into the fireplace.” 

He rants on about population growth, harvest returns, and statistics that Dimitri generally outsources to the treasury. He is unable to suppress a chuckle. Felix was never good with people, but he had always been good with numbers. When they were young and still shared everything, Felix had explained to him that there was comfort in their predictability, in adding and subtracting and knowing that as long as he did the calculations right, the answer will always be the same. Although Dimitri has always been hopelessly terrible with his numbers, he can see the merit in that certainty, so unlike this strange post-war world, they are living in. 

“Stop laughing at me!” Felix exclaims when Dimitri can’t keep his laugh to himself, swatting him on the shoulder. Dimitri shouldn’t feel so elated at the contact, the first since Felix kissed his hand after swearing his oath of fealty. But beggars can’t be choosers. 

He hides his smile behind his hand, unable to suppress it. “My apologies, my friend. It feels good to know some things haven’t changed.”

Felix swallows heavily. “I haven’t changed much. Not at all, really.”

 _You have,_ Dimitri thinks but doesn’t dare to disagree with Felix lest he loses this little bit of amicability between the two of them. Another silence falls between them where neither of them know what to say without hurting each other, which perhaps hurts more than anything else.

Dimitri distracts himself by watching Sylvain bully Ingrid into a dance. At first, they playfully sway together along with the locals, neither possessing natural grace nor dancing prowess, but they soon find their rhythm. He feels a deep adoration for the two of them swell up in his chest as he witnesses them fall into a pattern that suits them, seemingly lost in a world of their own making. He wonders if either of them realizes the obvious love they share for each other, and how he could have missed it up until now. 

When he turns to ask Felix about it, he finds him staring at him instead of their lifelong friends’ budding relationship. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks, subconsciously reaching for his eyepatch to ensure that the hideous scar underneath is still covered. It is. 

Felix’s brow furrows and he looks away swiftly. It takes a while for him to answer, but Dimitri is surprised he has received one at all. “... you look well,” Felix says softly, but Dimitri knows what he truly means. 

“Peace has been kind to me, but in truth, it is due to the kindness of our friends. Although I still feel like I can never atone for my atrocities, they make the impossible task at hand feel less of a burden and more like a privilege,” Dimitri admits with a hint of pride in his chest.

Felix nods but doesn’t comment. 

Dimitri hesitates, uncertain. What pulls him through is the tremor in Felix’s hand that he has been spotting all day, one that was never present during the war. 

With a softer voice, he admits: “I am trying to listen to your advice, Felix. I have chosen to take up the crown, to listen to the voices of the living rather than the dead. Their doomsaying serves as a warning rather than guidance nowadays, but it is… lonely in Fhirdiad sometimes, especially since there is someone missing at my right hand,” he dares to say and reaches out for Felix’s trembling hand. 

Before their fingers can touch, Felix draws back into himself, mortification evident on his red face. “S-stop spouting such bullshit! Y-you don’t need me at your right hand! You have Dedue, and don’t you dare take him for granted after everything he has done for you!”

Dimitri shakes his head, letting his gaze sweep over Dedue, who is dancing a traditional Duscur dance with an older woman, radiating joy. To see him so happy makes him feel happy too, if only for a moment.

“I do cherish him and all he does for me every day. But Dedue is my dear friend and confidante, my caretaker when I need it. Like… like family!” He realizes the truth of his words as they escape him like a puzzle piece falling into place and resolves to tell Dedue as soon as they have a private moment. 

Next to him, Felix is still decidedly not looking at him when he continues speaking. “But while he cares for me, he always takes my side and rarely expresses his own opinion. He never vocally disagrees with me, even if I know he does. He doesn’t challenge me, make me think again, make me aspire to be my very best. He… he isn’t you. Nobody is.”

“Stop talking already!” Felix all but shrieks, drawing more than a few curious stares.

But Dimitri has come too far to quit now. “Felix, despite everything that has happened between the two of us, you must know that there will always be a place for you at my side.”

“Don’t say such things so casually!” 

There is something about the red dusting the tips of his ears that gives Dimitri the courage to press on. “My apologies, seeing you today merely reminds me of our childhood and those dreams we used to share back then. Do you remember? Your brother would become Duke Fraldarius, and you would be at my side forever, like Kyphon and Loog.” Dimitri takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “But we’re grown now, and despite everything that happened our father’s mantles rest on our shoulders, although not quite like we envisioned. I have changed, and I believe for the better. So tell me, Felix, why…. why are we still so far removed from each other, even now we are side by side? What happened?”

Felix squeezes his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. Dimitri knows he must imagine the hint of tears reflecting the distant light of the bonfire. “Y-you know what happened. Glenn is dead. My father is dead. _Everyone_ is dead. Don’t waste your breath on such trivial sentimentalities when there is work to be done!”

“They are not trivial to me. Those memories of the days we shared, running around together on these streets, playing hide and seek, getting scolded by my father for neglecting our duties… On dark nights, they are all that pull me through,” Dimitri confesses, feeling a little bit desperate and a little bit daring. “What happened Felix? We are mending roofs and rebuilding bridges, returning the country to its former glory. But why can we do all that, but we can’t seem to move past our differences?”

Felix doesn’t yell at him in embarrassment for once, nor does he resort to violence as Dimitri had expected. It’s far worse: he looks pained, young and vulnerable as if Dimitri’s words have taken the energy out of him. 

Felix drops his head into his hands. “Do you ever feel like you’ve stolen someone’s future?” He asks, his voice softer than Dimitri had heard in a decade. ”Because I do, every day. All of this… I wasn’t made for this. You’re right, this wasn’t what we imagined when we were young. I was never supposed to be my father’s successor. It should have been my father sitting here, or even better; Glenn. I never had any ambitions to become Duke.” 

“Felix, I…” Dimitri doesn’t know what to say. In truth, he had asked Felix to take up the title for selfish reasons. The reality was that he had taken one look at the wild look in Felix’s eyes at the end of the war, and known that if he didn’t do something right now, Felix would leave with the wind and Dimitri would never see him again. This had been the only thing he could do to keep him from slipping in between his fingers. 

“And you know what I hate the most about it?” Felix interrupts him before he can apologize again. “That I’m good at it. That I know this land like the blood that flows through my veins and coats my hands. I’ve been all over the world, seen it torn apart by war and disaster alike, and yet this place remains the same. Just like me.” 

“You have changed Felix, and for the better too,” Dimitri says honestly, because somewhere in the past decade Felix has become absolutely and utterly breathtakingly beautiful, and Dimitri has been too blind to see it up until now. It’s not the only thing he has been missing, he thinks, and awkwardly puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder quite like the professor would do when he felt desolate. Felix shivers, which surprises Dimitri because he feels so very warm underneath his touch.

Then, barely audible over the crackling of the bonfire raging in front of them, Felix whispers in a voice so broken: “Then why do I still feel so lost?” 

He wishes for nothing but to wrap his arms around Felix, but knows better than to overstep his boundaries. 

“Some days I wake up and the whispers are too loud to ignore, the burdens so heavy I can’t even rise from my bed,” He confesses instead, allowing some of his carefully wrapped up sorrow to seep into his words. He feels Felix’s shoulders stiffen under his touch. 

On the edge of his limited sight the scorched image of Glenn scolds Dimitri for being so heartless. He soldiers on, ignoring the burning visage. with an ease born from rigorous practice. “Every time I cross a bridge or stand on a balcony, they tell me to jump. And some days I can’t pretend I don’t want to follow their command.” 

Felix all but jumps up, ready to assault him. “You! you…. you boar! You idiot! Y-you can’t do that, you have a country depending on you!” He yells, but his eyes are bloodshot and brimming with unshed tears.

Dimitri tries to smile reassuringly. “I won’t,” he promises. “But I’ve imagined death so much it feels more like a memory. I can’t erase what I have seen and done from my mind. I can move on now, with all of you by my side. But that doesn’t mean I am fully healed, and I don’t know if I ever truly will be. But I will never allow myself to slip up again. I will keep trying, every day and every night, and I won’t stop until my dying day.”

“Don’t!” Felix roars instantly, before biting his lip to stop himself from shouting. “… don’t’ speak of dying so casually,” he adds softly. He still won’t meet his eyes this time there is no denying the tears that finally spill down his cheeks. It shouldn’t feel like a revelation that Felix can still cry for him, but it does.

Before Dimitri realizes it he catches one with his thumb, “I did not intend to hurt you, my apologies,” he whispers as he brushes it away, savoring the soft skin underneath his fingers, wishing now more than ever that instead of learning how to hurt, someone had taught him how to heal and comfort.

It takes him a moment to realize that Felix has gone completely still, his eyes wide and pupils blown wide. Dimitri quickly retracts his hand.

“I apologize again. I truly wish for things to return to what they were before the Tragedy, before the war. And I have tried to keep my promise to you: Actions, not words. I hope you can see that,” he all but pleads. “I know things have been difficult between us, but I truly want things to return like they used to be when we were children.”

That snaps Felix out of it. “Stop apologizing! Is that why you’re here? To chase your ghosts?” And there it is, that familiar rage that Dimitri knows all too well. “The past is the past, let it sleep quietly! We’re not kids anymore, and neither one of us can erase what we have seen and done. Do you hear me? I don’t want to return things to return to what they were!” Felix explodes, slamming his goblet on the grass with enough force to crack it.

It’s not the only thing that breaks, and the pain that surges up in Dimitri’s chest couldn’t have been greater if he had run him through with his sword. “I... understand.”

“Do you? Do you really?” Felix sneers back.

Dimitri sighs, trying to keep his voice even. “I understand that the things I’ve done make it impossible for you to be my friend.”

Felix stares at his hands incredulously for a moment before hitting himself on the forehead repeatedly, muttering: “Goddess fuck me sideways.”

“Please stop hurting yourself for my sake.”

Felix turns back to him, looking absolutely livid. “You don’t get it all, do you? You really fucking don’t. God, why are you so blind?”

Life may be unfair but so is Felix, or so Dimitri thinks. “You disappear for a year and ignore all my summons and letters. How am I supposed to understand you, if you’re not willing to take my outstretched hand?” He asks, trying and failing to keep his frustration out of his voice.

“Do you really think I never tried? For months, I kept trying and trying, but every time I tried to come closer you were the one that pushed me away!”

 _Ah,_ Dimitri thinks as his own anger deflates. Of _course_ it always came back to the Tragedy. He barely remembered those days, too overwhelmed by the trauma of losing everything he ever knew. Vaguely, he thinks he can remember Felix crawling into his bed to soothe him, but in those days he could barely keep the living brother apart from the dead one, so even in retrospect, he can’t exactly be sure. After the rebellion there was no more reason to doubt, because Felix never looked at him again.

Wisely, he doesn’t tell Felix that. “You were a child. You were never responsible for my declining state of mind,” he says delicately instead. 

“Are you really that dense? Do you really think I’m that heartless? That I never laid awake at night when we thought you were dead for five long years, wondering what would have happened if I had only tried a little harder? If I had reached out a little more?” Felix rants, his voice pitched high and feverish. “I thought I was _so_ clever, being able to see the boar, but I was just as blind as everyone I despised, wasn’t I? I never could see the crying boy underneath. Could I have prevented your descent into madness? Could I have prevented my father’s death?” Felix’s breath hitches as he speaks faster and faster, the suppressed sobs making him heave.

In a moment of clarity Dimitri realizes that for once, the roles have been reversed. Is this how people see him during his episodes? Does he look this mad when he starts spiraling into his own delusions? Does their heart ache just as much with every hateful word he says about himself? 

What would the professor do? What would he need in a moment like this? Dimitri racks his brain in panic but draws a blank. 

“I don’t blame you. Goddess above, I never blamed you,” he says when he feels like he can’t wait any longer, but it feels inadequate. Should he call Sylvain and Ingrid for help, or would that make things worse?

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness! Not until I'm ready to forgive myself!" Felix lashes out before Dimitri can make up his mind, his hand reaching for his sword, holding on to the hilt like a lifeline. 

At last finally clicks: Felix isn’t mad at him, he’s angry with himself. And if isn’t that a feeling he is intimately acquainted with. 

"Why weren't we enough? Why could the professor, Dedue and my father reach you, but not me?" Felix’s voice breaks at the same time as Dimitri’s heart, and he’s surprised it can still hurt so much after all this time. 

As much as he wished he could, he doesn’t have the answers Felix is looking for. He tries nevertheless. "I don’t know. It…. it wasn’t that simple. You all helped all the little bits that helped me find myself again and. I… You were enough. You still are." _but I wasn’t,_ he finishes mentally and swallows deeply. 

Carefully he wraps an arm around Felix, pressing their sides together. The crowd in front of them seems like worlds apart from them. It’s not quite a hug, but Dimitri somehow feels like this is the most intimate he’s ever been with anyone.

Felix struggles for a second but it is nothing more than a token of resistance, a survival mechanism. Dimitri holds on, doesn’t give up on him, and when Felix finally stops pushing and starts clinging to him, not unlike those childhood days so long past, it feels like a victory.

“I forgive you whether you will allow me or not,” he mutters stubbornly, feeling so very young. 

Felix makes a strange sound, something caught between a sob and a snort. “Ingrid is right.”

“About what?”

It’s stained in tears and careful at best, but Dimitri swears he sees Felix smile. “We’re both idiots.”

A bark of laughter escapes Dimitri, and it feels like he is on the brink of a revelation. 

For the first time in what seems like years Felix meets his eyes, and it blows him away. Felix has always possessed an unparalleled focus and to have it centered on him is maddening. His eyes are rimmed with red, his pupils blown wide, impossibly dark and full of hunger. He looks like wants to consume him whole, and all Dimitri can reply is a dumbfounded. “Oh” 

Then his eyes drop to his mouth for a second too long, and Dimitri knows what he is about to do before he moves.

Felix’s lips are cold against his own, moving without any finesse at all but full of that same hunger that both scares him to the bone and makes his heart beat faster than he thought it still could. 

It’s over before he can fully understand what is going on and Felix looks at him with an uncertainty that echoes in Dimitri’s very soul. Felix is nothing like the demure noblewomen he had been expected to court since birth. With his hair wild and dirty and a storm of emotions on his face, he reminds Dimitri of a forest fire: beautiful but deadly, uncontrollable but captivating.

Felix finds his words before he does. “I… I don’t want things to return to the old days. I want something more. But I don’t think I deserve it,” he whispers with a guilty tone that is so unlike his usual angry lashing out. 

“Oh,” Dimitri repeats dumbfoundedly. Never in his wildest dreams had he considered Felix like that. But… he’s considering it now, and it somehow feels like a long time coming.

It feels like coming home and discovering something new at the same time. He is on fire, but not unpleasantly so. The feeling overtakes him, and he can’t help but smile from ear to ear as things finally start to make sense. _“Oh.”_

This time, when Felix doesn’t meet his gaze, Dimitri lifts his chin with his hands until he does. “I think I understand it now,” he says, breathless, and dives in. Their noses bump awkwardly but then Felix tilts his head slightly and suddenly it all clicks into place. He deepens the kiss, each movement of his lips drawing out an immediate and enthusiastic reply. He shouldn’t be surprised that even this is a competition to Felix, but he’s surprised all the same to find that he _likes_ it. Hands roam hungrily across his skin like lips press against his own, seeking more and more and more. 

When they part Felix laughs freely, and it’s a sound so addictive Dimitri wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life. He feels unhinged but in a good way. At long last, they have found their way back to each other. 

He steals another chaste kiss from Felix’s lips before pressing their foreheads together. If Felix was flushed before, he is something akin to a tomato now, but he’s smiling too. It’s nothing short of breathtaking. 

“You know? I think I want that too,” he confesses, and the look of hope he is rewarded will stay with him for the rest of his days. 

The spell is broken when Sylvain shouts something lewd at them from a distance. Suddenly aware of where they are and who can see them, Felix pushes Dimitri off him and surges up to his feet, although Dimitri can’t remember drawing him into his lap. He barely registers what kind of vulgarity Felix hollers back at their friends, still too occupied with the feeling of his lips, now slightly chapped for entirely different reasons than usual. Mercifully, Ingrid pulls Sylvain away with a knowing smile on her face before Felix can make good on his threats.

Later, he will probably freak out about this, but right now he is overwhelmed with emotion and sensations so foreign yet so welcome that it leaves him trembling. 

It hasn’t subsided when Felix finishes his tirade. “Are you cold?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes,” Dimitri lies and feels only slightly bad about it when Felix rolls his eyes and sits back down next to him. Any semblance of regret leaves him when Felix allows him to drape an arm around his shoulder and pull him close. 

Slowly but surely their breathing synchronizes and the world starts turning again. Felix’s hand finds its way into his hair of its own accord, playing with the strands until Dimitri feels the persistent tremor fade into nothingness. They don’t speak, merely exist together as people around them celebrate. They’ve seen too much to join in, but Dimitri has hope that one day he will feel free to dance among his subjects, and perhaps Felix will be there too. 

For now, this is enough. For a moment they are Dima and Fe again, but only for a second. He no longer knows his friend like the back of his hand, doesn’t know if his favorite color is still royal blue or if he still has that pegasus plushy he was so attached to. 

But he knows how Felix looks when he is trying to hide how much he cares about his friends, he knows how much he loves his people and what he will sacrifice for them, and he knows how strong he is, especially when he allows himself to be weak. 

Their childhood is over. It has been for a long time and there are a thousand things neither of them are ever getting back. For once, that thought doesn’t fill him with despair. The little smile on Felix’s face tells him that they have time to discover a thousand and one more things that will make life worth living. 

There is peace, hard-fought and well-earned, and they deserve to be happy. They aren’t alright, not yet, but they will be.

An hour from now they will sneak away into the forest until they find one of the trees that still bears their initials. He will push Felix against it and kiss him until neither of them knows where one begins and the other ends, eagerly exploring this wonderful new dimension between the two of them. Dedue will smile at him when they return, but contrary to Sylvain’s, it will be filled with nothing but pride.

A week from now when their boat is set to leave for Deirdru, Felix won’t be waving them goodbye on the shores of Fraldarius, he will be standing right beside him. Dimitri will hold his hair when the seasickness becomes too much, and he will lose hopelessly when the five of them play cards later that night on the deck. It won’t be like old times exactly, but in between Dedue’s additional company and Sylvain’s seemingly never-ending liquor stash, that is not necessarily a bad thing. Especially not when Felix’s hand finds its way into his own under their shared blanket.

A month from now their tour will take them to the monastery, where the Professor will welcome them all fondly and tell them how very proud she is of them. Which in turn will compel Felix challenge her to a duel on the spot out of sheer embarrassment. He will sit with her one night and admit that _yes, at long last, he thinks he feels happy_.

A year from now, Ingrid will propose to Sylvain, and Felix and Dimitri will act as their best men at their wedding. Felix will deem his affairs in Fraldarius properly managed to accept the position as Dimitri’s right-hand man. Commoners and nobles alike will come to fear both the blade and the sharp tongue of the King’s Right Hand, but they will also come to respect the man who wields them. Only Dimitri will find out that Felix is more honest in the dark when their bodies move as one to the beat of an ancient drum. 

A decade from now Dimitri will wake up one morning and realize that the voices are quiet. His lover will finally accept his proposal and blush brightly as they are married under the same roof he once helped fix. Dedue will name his firstborn after him, and call him uncle Dimitri henceforth. It will be his most precious title of them all.

A century from now they will be remembered not as an echo of their ancestors, but as the men who led Fodlan into a new Golden Age. They will be buried side by side, surrounded in death at last by friends and family, visited every now and then by their old Professor as time moves ever forward.

A millennium from now they will be reborn, and the cycle will start anew. 

But right now Dimitri doesn’t know that. He _does_ know that for once he feels like he is at the apex of the world, and he is not alone. In this moment they’re young, the stars above them are bright and the soft spring breeze is nothing but a promise of all the beauty they have yet to experience. They’ll fight and disagree, but they’ll always find their way back to each other. 

His father was right, Dimitri thinks as he dares to press a soft kiss into Felix’s hair. Fraldarius is beautiful in spring, but for the first time in many years, Dimitri is looking forward to summer too.

**Author's Note:**

> *dies*
> 
> I love this pairing and I really wanted to do them justice, but to be honest, I would need another 20K+ to do so. The word limit for project sworn was 3k and I failed, but I can't write Dimilix without acknowledging all their issues, history and friends. People discounting platonic relationships is one of my major pet peeves, so there is a lot of Dedue, Sylvain and Ingrid enabling in this fic.
> 
> Writing Dimitri was surprisingly easy for me. I remember being roughly one year post-depression. You're still fighting your demons and rediscovering life, but you know how to face your darkest hours. While Dimitri is recovering after the war, I headcanon that Felix's coping mechanism is to just keep going. After the fighting is done, the trauma catches up with him, as it always does eventually. There lies the core of this fic: Dimitri loves him anyway, and Felix - despite trying his hardest not too - has never not loved Dimitri. In the end, they might never be the people they envisioned they would become, but together they can move on and make peace with themselves and the past, and create something beautiful. It's a hard road, I would know, but at the foundation of this pairing is a fountain of love and together they manage to overcome. Leaving your childhood behind is scary, but it isn't the end. It's a whole new beginning. 
> 
> I'll stop ranting now. (but if you want to talk about these kids, please for the love of Sothis talk to me, I have FEELINGS) Mikan was lovely to work together with, please go to her twitter and look at all of her lovely art! Thanks for reading this! ❤


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